


Peace in the Struggle

by Arbryna



Series: Fumbling Towards Ecstasy [4]
Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Angst, Multi, OT3, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot, Smut, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-08
Updated: 2011-12-08
Packaged: 2017-10-27 01:59:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arbryna/pseuds/Arbryna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything changes when Kahlan discovers that Richard can't be confessed – what does this mean for their relationship?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peace in the Struggle

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Sarah McLachlan, "Fumbling Towards Ecstasy".

You should be happy.

That's the thought that keeps running through your mind. You should be happier now than at any other moment in your life. He can't be confessed, at least not by your hand; you can be with him now, the way you've always wanted to, since that first time you looked into his eyes and saw them fill with affection and admiration for _you_ , not respect borne of fear of what you could _do_. Countless nights you've stood helplessly apart as the two of them relieved one another's frustrations; the things you have watched them do together have filled you with a yearning stronger than anything you have ever known. Now you can do all of those things and more with him, and instead of being thrilled beyond belief, you are filled with an apprehension that roils sickly in your stomach.

He cannot be confessed, but she can. Try as you might, you can see nowhere to go from here that will not break her heart; and after you've dedicated so much time and trust to putting it back together. You could offer to share him – but you know very well that he was never who she wanted. Their arrangement had been borne of mutual need, and now that his needs can be met without her help, you know she will refuse any offer that appears to be made out of pity.

A part of you wishes you'd never discovered his immunity; what you all had before was messy, and complicated, and nowhere near enough, but it was something you could all share. Everything is different now, _changed_ , and that part of you is screaming, begging to just go back to the way things were. Another part, though, just as strong, is celebrating the revelation that you can love without confession, and that part just adds to the guilt that floods you when your eyes drift over to her.

Her reaction to the day's events is both puzzling and worrisome; you expected her to be withdrawn, to brood over the inevitable destination of the path you are on, the way that you have been. Instead, she keeps looking at you with a knowing smirk, the slightest glint of hesitance in her clear green eyes. It just drives the knife deeper into your heart, knowing that you will be the one to kill that glimmer of hope, to destroy what small happiness she has managed to find in this life.

The ride away from the Pillars of Creation is spent in silence, and while each of you is aware of how unnatural it feels not to be laughing and joking with one another, none of you can bring yourselves to pretend that things are the same as before. He keeps catching your eye, glances weighted with anticipation and dread and love, and she just keeps smirking at both of you, as though she knows something you do not. You're terrified that she's going to try something reckless and get herself killed, and you could never live with yourself if she died by your touch.

You're alone now, the three of you, in the cave you all made camp in just a day before. So much has changed in that one day; you had no trouble fantasizing about your dream wedding yesterday, because you all knew that it was never likely to actually happen. Still, you had made sure to pull her aside when everyone was preparing for bed; had kissed her sweetly, assuring her that whatever fantasies you may indulge in, you can't imagine a future that doesn't have her in it.

Your words come back to haunt you now, ringing in your ears as though the walls of the cave retained the echo of them. Zedd may as well have heard them, with how quickly he excused himself for first watch. You're sure that he knows what you've all been doing; only a fool would miss the way you all sneak off together under the guise of hunting, or sparring, or whatever the excuse of the day happens to be, only to return with cheeks flushed and clothing rumpled, sated smiles on your faces. You think you should feel ashamed, or embarrassed at the least, but you've always been selfish in this; you can't be ashamed of the love you all share, no matter how messy and complicated it is.

She stiffened noticeably as the wizard hurried out of the cave, and you're sure it must have been in anticipation of the conversation no one seems willing to initiate. You can feel his eyes on you, burning with all of the things he is eager to do with you; it floods you with warmth, even as her uncertain gaze prickles at your conscience. Rather than meet either pair of eyes, you look down at your hands, as though they might hold some magical solution to your dilemma.

Finally she huffs, tossing aside the stick she's been using to prod at the fire. “Just say it.”

You and he both look up at her with wide eyes. Your stomach twists with dread, and your heart flutters in your chest; you're not ready for this, you can't do this to her...but you have to. A lump grows in your throat as she rolls her eyes, all the walls you worked so hard to tear down building back up around her as you watch.

“If we were going to fuck, we'd be doing it already,” she explains brusquely, crossing her arms over her chest as her pointed gaze travels between you and him. “You both clearly want to. Just tell me to go, and you can have the cave all to yourselves.”

You would blush at her frank language, but your heart is breaking at the defeat in her voice, the knowledge that you can do nothing to alleviate it. “Cara, you have to know that my feelings for you haven't changed.” Your voice shakes, your features twisted with guilt and empathy, and she nods as though it confirms what she's thought all along.

“You've always wanted each other more.” Her gaze drifts to the fire, and the blank expression on her face cuts you deeper than any blade ever could.

Shifting around the fire, you rest a tentative hand on hers, where it rests on a leather-covered knee. Her jaw tenses, but she doesn't look away from the flames.

“I love you, Cara, as much and as deeply as I have ever loved Richard. I never wanted to have to choose between you,” you say, your feelings spilling out of you as though somehow your raw sincerity can bridge this divide. Tears prick hot at your eyes, and you swallow them back, willing yourself to remain steady enough to finish saying the words you've been going over in your mind all day. “But what happened today changes everything. I never would have tried to confess Richard if I'd been in my right mind. But it happened, and he's still Richard. I don't know if it's love that made him immune, or something else. And without knowing for sure, there's no way I could risk it with you. I could never live with the knowledge that my love was the cause of your death.”

Your vision blurs as tears start to spill in earnest, and you reach up to wipe them away, cursing them all the while; you don't deserve to cry, not when she's the victim – not when you get to walk away from this with him beside you. You don't see the green eyes glinting with amusement, the slow smile spreading across her lips as realization sinks in.

She laughs, and it's genuine – as though a heavy weight has been lifted from her chest. You imagined a variety of possible reactions, but this wasn't even close to being among them. She smirks as she finally meets your gaze. “Did you really think a wizard – even one as powerful as Zedd – had the power to block confession? Even Mord-Sith can't do that, and blocking magic is our specialty.”

You're sure that your confusion is readily visible in your expression; your memories of being under confession are a jumble of images and feelings, and you're still trying to come to terms with such intimate knowledge of just what it is that you do to people.

“You confessed me,” she explains, rolling her eyes. “When you were in the Con Dar.”

No, that's not possible; she'd be dead, wouldn't she? But an image pushes its way to the forefront; you remember – “I remember trying,” you say hesitantly, thinking back to that moment in the town. Hope flutters to life in your chest, and you struggle to restrain it. You've spent your whole life dealing with the knowledge that you could never have love. You're not so selfish as to think that you could have them both, that fate would be so kind to you now, when it had been so cruel to you as a child.

“You did,” she says, and her voice is softer than before, the corners of her mouth turning up almost against her will. “I felt it, rushing through me. I've never felt anything so pure.”

You remember the last time you heard her talk like this, after saving the night wisps; you remember how it made your heart flutter behind your ribs, how you had kissed her as though both of your lives depended on it, because you just couldn't help yourself. She had been beautiful then, but right now, with the firelight dancing over her face, green eyes dark with a hesitant kind of desire, she is absolutely stunning.

The truth is there in her eyes, laid bare for you to see; this isn't her stubborn confidence refusing to admit an impossibility – this is actually happening. Everything you never knew you always wanted is right here in front of you, just waiting for you to claim it.

So you do, your fingers sliding over her smooth cheek to guide her lips to yours. You pour all of yourself into this kiss, savoring the softness of her lips, the warmth of her arm against your breasts. You don't remember opening your mouth, but it doesn't seem important, as lost as you are in the subtle flavor of her tongue as it slides against your own. You taste salt, and you're not sure if the tears are yours or hers, and it occurs to you how far she's come – how far you both have come – for you to even consider that she might cry.

The sound of a throat clearing reminds you that you are not alone here, that he is here with you. A sudden anxiety clenches in your stomach. Does he want this? Will he still want her here, when he could have you to himself? You're not sure you could bear it if he forced you to choose – you don't think you ever could, not when there's nothing standing between you and both of the loves of your life.

Pulling away from her slowly, you dare to meet his gaze, and almost laugh at yourself. You needn't have been concerned; the smile on his face couldn't be wider if he worked at it, and his eyes are glittering with the same honest love and devotion that you've always been so astonished by. You can't help but smile back, the heavy guilt and apprehension that has gripped you all day slowly fading as he crawls over, tucking a finger under your chin.

You turn to kiss him, keeping one hand on her neck to assure yourself that this is real. His lips aren't as full as hers, and his stubble scratches gently at your face, and the contrast between them is clear but necessary. They each bring something different to your life, but neither is any less vital than the other.

The kiss intensifies, his tongue plunging eagerly into your mouth, and your hand falls away from her neck as she slides behind you, hands finding your hips as though they've always belonged there. Maybe they have. You rise up on your knees, allowing her to press fully into your back as she slides your hair aside, her lips and tongue sucking at your throat. His hands slide around your waist as he presses more firmly against you, and you can feel him hard against your stomach, your breasts crushed against his chest, and the situation is rapidly spiraling beyond your control.

You manage to push him away, a soft moan escaping your throat before you can catch it as her teeth close gently around that patch of skin where your neck meets your shoulder. “Zedd will hear!”

Even if you're sure the wizard knows what you've been doing together, that doesn't mean he should be forced to listen to it – no matter how much your body is aching to finally feel a touch that isn't your own.

She smirks into your neck before sliding her lips up to your ear, her breath warm and moist on your skin. “Zedd knows exactly what's going on in here. I felt him put up a shield as he left - probably to block out sound.”

So that's why she tensed earlier; as a Mord-Sith, she's far more sensitive to magic than you or him. Anticipation pools in your stomach as you realize exactly what this means; then his mouth is on yours again, and her hands are sliding down over your thighs, and you forget that you ever protested in the first place.

The three of you undress in a delicious blur of lips and tongues, fingers pulling at laces and buckles, and soon you find yourself back in your original position: sandwiched between your two lovers, her stiffened nipples grazing the naked skin of your back as she sucks deep kisses across your shoulders, his hardness pressing into your stomach. You can feel yourself clenching in anticipation, wetness already flooding between your thighs.

You hesitate here; not because you're unsure, but because you've given a lot of thought to how you would want to be with him, if it ever became possible, and the idea of asking for it outright is daunting. You've watched the two of them together too many times to count, and she always seemed to enjoy this the most, though you can't be sure that it wasn't her inherent need for control, rather than a heightened physical enjoyment.

Nonetheless, you're curious, and like her, you're used to being in control. You slide your hands over his chest, once again smooth and unscarred, and push gently at his shoulders.

“Lie down,” you murmur against his lips. Your voice is low and husky, and you might not have recognized it had you not felt the words come from your own throat. The fact that you can have this now makes you want it that much more.

He looks a bit dazed at first, before he realizes what you're asking and, with a last lingering kiss, lowers himself to the ground on his back. His manhood rests stiff against his stomach, and you can tell that he's holding back the urge to stroke himself, his fists clenching at his sides with the effort. His eyes gaze up at you with love, and desire, and a need so intense that you feel it between your own legs.

You crawl forward to straddle his thighs, and pause when you realize that you're not entirely sure how to go about this. She always made it look so effortless, and as badly as you want this, you've still never actually done it before. Biting your lip, you look back at her, and she smirks knowingly at you as one hand comes to rest at the base of your back, her other guiding your own hand to close around his length. It's hot, pulsing under your palm, and he moans as you adjust your hand around it. The hand on your back slides around to your hip, gently guiding you down onto him.

Soon he is deep inside you, deeper than your fingers could ever reach, and though it stings a bit at first, the feeling of being joined to him this way, filled so completely, is better than anything you've ever felt before. Your eyes drift close as you rock against him experimentally, losing yourself in the feel of him.

Then her lips are on your shoulder, her hand curved around the juncture of your hip, and you remember that she is there, too. You can already tell that focus is going to be the biggest challenge in all of this, but you wouldn't trade this feeling for anything.

You look down at him, a question in your eyes, and he nods his agreement almost immediately, his hands stroking up and down your thighs. With a groan, you settle onto his hips, his hardness as deep within you as it can go. He jerks up into you as you reach for her, twisting your body to claim her mouth with your own. It's awkward, but at first neither of you seem to notice, so absorbed are you in the feeling of freedom that comes with knowing that you can be together, with no boundaries between you.

She's the one who moves to rectify the situation, sliding her leg over him to straddle his abdomen. Then her body is pressed tightly against yours, her breasts sliding against yours as your tongues entwine.

You've admired her body for longer than you would admit, wanted so badly to glide your fingers over her supple curves, feel the weight of her breasts in your hands, and now that you can, it's intoxicating. You clench around the hardness inside you, your arousal only spiking higher as you explore the broad expanse of her skin.

To her credit, she manages to restrain herself from taking control, allowing you your indulgence, until your fingers brush over the moist curls between her legs. She gasps out your name, eyes half-closed, hips jerking forward against your hand, and her voice is so hoarse with need that you can't fathom making her hold out any longer.

She's wet, so much so that her arousal seeps down onto his stomach, and she groans as you dip your fingers into her warmth, sliding up the length of her sex. Her eyes slam shut as you brush over the bundle of nerves, a wanton moan tearing from her parted lips.

In many ways this is easier than figuring out how to make love to him; you've touched yourself enough times that you have a pretty good idea of how to touch her. You start with two fingers, pressing into her and gasping as her heat clenches around you, and you feel yourself contract around him in response.

He groans, and you glance at him over her shoulder, seeing that his restraint is wearing thin. There's that focus problem again. You reward him for his patience with a firm rock of your hips, trying to find a balance between thrusting down onto him and pumping your fingers into her.

His hands drift from your hips down onto hers, sliding up her sides to tug her backwards onto his chest. Confusion flashes across her face, but she is too far gone for the question to form in her mind. Instead, she turns her head, twisting to capture his lips in a sloppy kiss as his hands reach around to knead at her breasts. The sight takes your breath away, and for a moment you just watch; old habits die hard, apparently.

She tears her mouth away from his, gazing up at you hungrily, and you remember your purpose. Her new position allows for easier access, and you slide a third finger into her, knowing now from experience that two don't even come close to matching his girth. She moans her approval, rocking into your hand as she rests her head back against his shoulder.

Her sex clenches eagerly around your fingers, drawing them further in as you finally settle into a rhythm. Your heart is pounding so hard you think it might burst from your chest, a familiar tightness coiling between your legs as you all rock against each other.

She climaxes first; a fact that you're sure she will grumble about later. But he has had plenty of practice with this, and you know he's no stranger to pretending it's you he's making love to. You know that nothing could compare to the feel of having your fingers buried deep inside her, and you imagine it must be the same for her; you are inside of her, loving her, and it's enough to overwhelm even someone as stubborn as her.

The vision before you is beautiful in its stark eroticism, her back arching up as she spasms around your fingers, her fingers digging into the dirt at either side of his ribs. She gasps your name again, and it fuels your desire to new heights; as she slowly comes down, your free hand grips her thigh as you thrust more insistently down onto him.

It's not _enough_ , somehow, and you almost feel guilty for even thinking it. The little noises escaping your throat become more frustrated, and she looks up at you with a knowing smirk on her lips. Pushing herself back up onto her knees, your fingers still inside her, she wipes the dirt from her own fingers onto her thigh before sliding them between your legs.

He grunts, twitching inside of you as her fingers drag over the base of him before finding the bundle of nerves at the top of your sex. Little jolts of pleasure shoot through your body as she strokes in rapid circles, driving you closer to your release. Your head falls forward against her, your lips sucking sloppy kisses along her shoulder. His hands are on your thighs, his hips arching into yours as your eyes meet his, and you're _so close_ –

And then your release crashes through you, waves of sensation racking your body. Your power bursts free, an explosion of magic and pleasure and love, and you swear you can feel it flooding into both of your lovers, entwining with the love that already resides there.

Apparently they feel it too, because he cries out your name, his fingers digging into your thighs as he pulses inside of you, filling you in hot spurts. She rocks against your fingers, and at once you remember both that you never slid your fingers free, and that she had never been satisfied with one climax. Weary as you are from the release both of your power and your pleasure, you suck lazily at her collarbone as you strain to meet her thrusts with your fingers.

She clenches hard around you as pleasure washes over her once more, her breasts arching into yours. With him softening inside of you, and her warmth surrounding your fingers, her skin under your lips, you think you may never find an experience to rival what you're feeling right now.

When she recovers for a second time, she becomes aware of your head sagging against her shoulder, and she cups your face, her lips meeting yours with an intensity that has nothing to do with sex. Your chest swells with love for this woman, and you try to reciprocate, but you're struggling to remain upright, and losing. Smiling into your mouth, she guides you off of him to lie on your back next to him. She climbs over you, unable to resist pausing and kissing you as she straddles your hips, grinds teasingly down into you, before settling down on your other side.

He props himself up on an elbow, rough fingers trailing over your chest as he drops sweet, lingering kisses onto your shoulder. You turn, kissing him languidly before you settle back against the ground, satisfaction weighing down your body.

Her fingers twitch on your stomach, and you look up to see her looking over at him with an odd look on her face, like she's trying to puzzle something out.

“What's on your mind?” You ask softly, hoping that what you've shared will be enough to overcome her stubborn stoicism.

She looks down, her lips twisting in thought before she looks back up at him. “Why did you touch me? Kahlan would have been enough for me, and we both know it was her you always wanted.”

Her voice is soft, genuinely confused, and your heart breaks all over again with the realization that she just honestly doesn't understand why he would want her when he could have you. For all that she claims to be an expert at reading human behavior, she hasn't noticed the way he's started to look at her – so similar to the way he looks at you. You ache to reassure her, but this is something that he has to do.

“Cara, Kahlan isn't the only one who loves you,” he says, reaching over to cover her hand with his own. Her eyes widen in shock. “I admit that when we started this, it wasn't because I wanted to be with you. But things change. You're a part of both of us now.”

He's got that lopsided smile on his lips, the one that you always want to kiss away, and his words only intensify that desire. They seem to have a similar effect on her, because for once she seems to be speechless. She stares down at their joined hands, resting on the pale skin of your stomach, her brow furrowed as she tries to understand.

You push aside the desire to kiss him, instead reaching up to trail your fingers along her jaw, drawing her into a sweet, lingering kiss. He is confident in the feelings you share; she has no such assurance.

After a long moment, you pull away, a small smile touching your lips. “Roll over.”

She eyes you suspiciously. “Why?”

Taking a deep breath, you consider coming up with an excuse, but quickly decide against it. The truth will either work or it won't, but you can't fathom being anything less than honest with her.

“I want to hold you,” you say, daring her with your eyes to deny you.

After a moment, she huffs, but turns nonetheless. You smile happily, sliding your arm around her waist. He settles against your back, his fingers drifting along your arm, then over to hers, and back to yours in a lazy pattern. You feel warm, and loved, and your chest swells with emotion as you pull her tighter against you.

“We'll need to put our clothes back on soon,” he points out regretfully, his calloused fingers continuing their aimless exploration. “Zedd can't keep watch all night.”

“Not yet,” you say, humming contentedly. “Maybe in a little while.”

For now, you just want to soak in this moment, the knowledge that all of this is real. It's more than you could ever have hoped for – more than you would ever have _thought_ to hope for – yet somehow it feels like this is the way it was always meant to be.

  
_end._   



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